


Twisted Abstract

by cadkitten



Category: Angelo (Band), Pierrot (Band)
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Oral Sex, Sibling Incest, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-10
Updated: 2007-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-13 23:05:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirito has always punished Kohta for his wrongdoings. But all of it isn't exactly what Kohta thinks it is; it's something deeper than he's ever expected. Thirty-two years and everything finally culminates in one night of truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twisted Abstract

Some part of me knows this is all so wrong, but I can't bring myself to really care. He's standing right behind me and I know that he's the perfect portrayal of the deliciously sinful creature that he plays at being. A small part of me wonders why he stands so close to me when there's no need, no true reason...

'Focus, Kohta... focus.'

My fingers fly across the notes, keeping with the pace of the song, never faltering. I'm never sure why I insist on yelling at myself in my head when it's really his fault for standing so damn close; but that's how it's always been... how it'll always be. Even in Pierrot it was that way, though so much better in a way. Back then he'd flirt with us all on stage, even me. Back then, it didn't matter that I was his brother. The fans wanted it and so he did it. But even all those years ago, I still berated myself for watching him the way I do. I watch him like a lovesick child, someone so lost in the fog of their mind that they can't see past the tip of their nose. In a way, I suppose I am that lovesick child; that I always have been.

I feel his hand on my shoulder, interrupting my thoughts and my fingers. I miss a note and visibly cringe, praying the crowd before us doesn't notice and that maybe - just maybe - he doesn't either. The last time I messed up and the fans commented on it, it ended with me against a wall, my nose bloody and his fist in my face. He's got a temper on him... even the fans could always see it brooding just below the surface, back in the days of Pierrot. I'm not sure if they still see it or if his image has changed enough from the real him that they are blinded into submission by it.

For years I didn't understand the triggers to his anger, but now I know them by heart; I've learned them all in the hardest ways possible. When I was seven, he broke my left arm for slapping him up the back of the head. I meant it as a joke... really, I did. He said I needed to learn respect. I cried for hours before he told mother that I'd fallen and broken my arm... I never told her or anyone the truth, I knew better than that.

At fourteen, he caught me making out with my girlfriend behind a local club. We took her home and then he beat me until I couldn't move. I've never done another thing in public and every girlfriend I've had since then has been a secret from him. I still don't know what made him so angry over that... I was even trying to be discrete, hiding in that alleyway.

At twenty, he cut me with his pocketknife, all the way down my left side. The scar's still there. I couldn't figure out what I'd done to piss him off. I'd already learned by then not to ask, just to accept my punishment and try to figure it out by myself. He was so mad that night... I can still see the anger in his eyes, the set of his jaw. I've never been more afraid of him than I was that night. That's the night everything changed though. He changed me for good and he doesn't even know it.

Three days before he did that, I'd just hooked up with this really hot blonde American girl. It'd been nothing but a senseless fuck, but still, it was relatively harmless... or so I thought. I thought I'd been as discrete as possible. Jun lied for me, saying I was going drinking with him; something that Kirito never joined us for. And Jun even went to the bar so that it'd look like the truth. I went to this seedy little hotel on the outskirts of the city to meet her. I'd only spent half an hour and checked in under a false name. Afterward, I went to the bar and hung out with Jun the rest of the night, coming home just as wasted as I was supposed to be and only smelling of alcohol and cigarettes. He was asleep when I got home and I swear he never saw me or heard me come in. I never saw the girl again and I never intended to either.

But that's all that it could have been... the only reason he could have cut me like he did. She was the first girl I'd been with in over two years; it had to have been her, he had to have seen us or found out about it somehow. I hadn't done anything else to warrant his anger. For over a year, I brooded on that and that alone. Twice it had been a girl that resulted in a major incident with my brother. Maybe he knew something I didn't... or at least that's what I kept telling myself.

At the age of twenty-two, on my birthday in fact, I got completely plastered. At twenty-two, I kissed a guy for the first time. For some reason Jun looked far too good that night. Maybe I was too hard up or maybe it was just alcohol-induced stupidity, but either way, I ended up with him smashed up against the wall and my tongue down his throat. Kirito found us like that, Jun trying to push me off and me insisting on kissing him even more. It was just a kiss, nothing more than that... but all the same, Kirito only laughed and plucked me off of Jun to let him escape. I remember cringing against the wall, expecting to be hit or worse. I mean... what I'd just done was surely worse than kissing any girl in semi-private, right? Kissing my male band mate in the middle of a club full of people and forcing him into it... that had to be worse. But he just smirked at me and took me back to the table. For days I expected his wrath, but it never came.

For the next few months, I kept thinking about it... I couldn't stop, the thoughts just kept cycling over and over in my brain. He was okay with me kissing a guy, but not a girl. Did that mean he was okay with me being gay, but not with me being straight? If so, why? In the end, I decided it didn't matter why, it only mattered that it was okay with him. I tested the theory out in several ways over the next few years, all the while avoiding any contact with girls. I suggested more fanservice on stage, resulting in me being kissed or kissing the other guys on stage. I even ventured so far as to suggest it happen between us a few times... for the fans, of course. And he did it... happily even. I started dragging him along with Jun and I to bars and then blatantly flirting with guys once we were there, right in front of him. Again, he found me a few different times making out in the darkened hallways with a few guys... and he just let it occur, never even trying to stop it. I never let it get further than that, but all the same, his wrath seemed to have stopped, so long as no girls got involved.

At twenty-five I'd not so much as had someone touch me sexually for five years. My hand had long since gotten old. Porn even failed to attract the same interest it once did. I missed the feeling of sinking myself into someone, of another body writhing beneath me in pleasure. I gave in after one of our more energetic lives. I'd had this girl, Aya, as a friend for well over two years and I knew she wanted me. I went to her and basically begged her for just one night and nothing more. She agreed and god did I enjoy that night.

The next morning when I arrived at the airport to leave for the rest of our tour, I was greeted by a very unhappy Kirito. He demanded to know where I'd been the night before, since I hadn't come home. I told him I'd been with Aya, talking into the night and just decided to crash there. He must have seen the lie written all over my face. For the next two weeks, he barely spoke to me. The most attention I got was on stage and that was only because he basically had to... the fans expected it.

We got home and almost immediately after the door closed behind us, he had me against the wall, punching me with all his strength. As always, he never said a word, just beat me until I cried, until my blood stained the wall and the floor beneath us, until I begged for mercy at his feet. And then he kicked me until everything went dark.

When I woke up, I was in my bed and he'd bandaged me up. He was sitting in a chair in the corner of the darkened room. I remember whispering his name into the darkness, offering my apology in the single word. He stood up and came to stand beside of me, those fierce eyes glittering in the dark as he stared down at me. "Have you learned?" he asked me. I nodded and replied with the first thing that came to mind... never really the smartest thing to do with him. "I am not allowed to have sex," I said in a very matter-of-fact tone. The look of fury that blazed in his eyes is one I'll never forget, nor the stinging slap that followed. "No. You will not dirty yourself with women." And with that, he left the room.

For three days I didn't see him, no matter how long I stayed up or where I looked. He didn't answer his cell phone either. When he did come back, it was different between us. I'd sworn myself to complete celibacy while he was gone, promising not to touch anyone for the rest of my life in anything but a friendly way. I announced at our next practice that I was not going to be involved in direct fanservice anymore. If it was an implication, then fine, but no touches ever again. Kirito made me promise that he could touch me, but not in sexual ways, just friendly touches. And from that day until this day, that is how it's been.

It's been seven years since I've been kissed. I don't even miss the touch of another anymore. I've resigned myself to my fate and it's okay. I've learned to only depend on myself for any pleasure that my body wants or needs... just me and my fantasies. But some part of me still wants to know why my own brother wouldn't want me to find happiness or release where it's offered; just for the sake of curiosity.

I feel his hand on my shoulder as I stand here and just the simple innocent touch sends a shockwave of pleasure through me. I know it's oh so wrong. How could it be right? He's my brother and I'm getting pleasure from a perfectly innocent touch. What could be more wrong than that? It seems to happen every time he touches me lately. This whole tour has been hell on me and my libido honestly. I'm glad this is the last show... not because I'm tired or I want the daily grind of it all to stop, but because of these feelings that I don't understand or even want to try to comprehend.

His fingers fall away, ghosting over my bicep as he pulls away, heading back to center stage. I shiver at the loss of contact and bow my head to hide my expression from prying eyes. What would he do if he knew? Would he hit me again like he used to? Some part of me wants that, even as the other part screams at me that I should hide it.

I concentrate on finishing the final song and breathe a sigh of relief as the final notes ring out through the auditorium. I practically run off stage. Not very dignified, but the best I can do at this point. I shove my bass at a stagehand and make like hell for the restroom. Once inside, I lock myself in a stall and just sit there, my head cradled in my hands, my thoughts running rampant. I hear the door open a few minutes later and the footfalls stop in front of my stall. My breath catches in my throat and I know it's him... I know he's here to show me the path I've failed to follow. I slowly stand up and unlock the stall. I step out in front of him, my head still bowed, my face hidden, and I take a deep breath. "I... I missed a note when you touched me. I'm so sorry, I know I shouldn't have." I turn my face away and let my hands hang limply at my sides. "Show me why I shouldn't miss any notes, Kirito."

When he doesn't respond, I turn my head to look at him. The look on his face is half angry, half heartbroken. I've never seen him look like this before and it scares me. I raise one hand and take his into mine. I curl it into a fist and raise it up and then let go of it. "Go ahead... I know I deserve it."

He drops his hand and shakes his head. "You don't understand... you never have." And then he's leaving, and I'm left staring helplessly after him. All I can do is follow him and finish our nightly ritual to get us out of the concert hall. We leave in silence and the entire train ride home is made with the thick oppressive fog of something being bitterly wrong hanging over us. I can't pinpoint what it is and I feel utterly helpless as I watch him slump dejectedly into one of the plastic seats of the car. I stand by the door, too afraid to be anywhere in close proximity to him.

When our stop comes, we exit the car and walk the few blocks to our apartment. The only words that pass between us are about if I'm hungry or not, which I'm not. I unlock the front door and let us inside. Both of us take off our shoes in silence. I move to turn away, and before I can register what's happening, he has me pinned against the wall, my wrists captured tightly in his hands, held above my head. I stare at him, fear coursing through my veins, and the tinge of excitement that his touch has been causing me lately pooling low in my stomach. He moves closer, pressing his body firmly against mine. My body reacts, a tingle of pleasure dancing along every nerve ending and I start to panic. What if he can tell? If he can tell, I'm done for. He'll kill me right here or at least maim me for life... more than he already has.

I struggle against his hands, trying to twist out of his grip. Panic edges into my voice as I plead with him. "Kirito... please, let me go. I'll stand here and take whatever punishment I get, you don't need to hold me!" My voice gets all high pitched at the end and I know he can tell I'm losing it. For a few seconds he just stares at me, his eyes sparkling with something I don't quite understand and then his lips are pressed against my ear and he's whispering to me.

"You like this... don't you?"

I don't say a word, refusing to give voice to anything incriminating. My eyes widen almost comically as his tongue trails down my neck. He stops at the junction of my neck and shoulder, letting out a soft chuckle before he suddenly grinds his hips against mine. The harsh pressure and delicious friction are too much for me and I know if he continues this, my body will tell him all he needs to know. Shame paints my face a brilliant red and I whimper pitifully, tugging at my hands once more. "Please... please let me go."

"Answer my question, Kohta."

Rage boils up inside of me. I've never been mad at him before, this is something so new it's almost refreshing and I tap into it, refusing to let it pass. He's baiting me, trying me, and all just to punish me. This isn't just wrong, it went beyond wrong the instant he moved this to trying to get a sexual rise out of me. I yank violently at my hands and then kick him hard in the shin. His grip lessens just long enough for me to pull away, and I shove him against the opposite wall, and haul off and punch him in the face. "Fuck you, Kirito! I won't fucking answer your perverted little questions. I put up with all the pain you've ever dealt me, even welcomed it at times. But this?! You've stepped over a line that isn't meant to be crossed this time." I strike him again and this time he visibly winces and spits out blood onto the tiled floor of the entryway.

His voice is surprisingly calm when he speaks, given that I've just dared to hit him. "You may have accepted my punishment; you may have even liked it at times. But not once have you really truly understood why I gave it to you." His eyes meet mine, but this time they're flat and emotionless. "You know I've cared for you all these years, tried to put you down the right path. But you never seem to understand why I do it."

I stare at him like he's finally lost his mind. Vaguely I register the fact that this should be normal and all else that's occurred seem odd, but in reality it's all reversed. My temper still burns bright red inside of me and I can't fight the words that leave my mouth. "Oh yeah? I know exactly what path you decided I was supposed to walk, you bastard. You decided I should be gay and not straight, no matter what I wanted. It's you who drove me to desperate measures, hiding who I was with and inevitably breaking every relationship I've ever had. I can't even have a pointless fuck with a random stranger or you punish me for it. You are the reason I've been celibate for the past seven years! The only fucking touch I've had in all that time has been you! I hardly call that a choice either, given that you forced me into accepting it." I drop my voice an octave and lean in closer to him. "And if you want me to fucking answer your damn question, then yes, I liked what you were doing. Any man who's only had their own touch for seven years would too. In fact, I haven't even touched myself in so long I don't remember what it feels like anymore. I'm too afraid you'll find out and end up killing me for it. For you, it's either I'm gay or I'm in pain for whatever I've done." I shove him hard in the chest and turn away, intending to walk off.

A sound I'm completely familiar with, but that is wholly unfamiliar coming from my brother stops me dead in my tracks. I slowly turn back to see him with a hand covering his mouth, tears dancing in his eyes, and I watch as he crumples to the floor. I gasp and in a second I'm beside of him, my hand on his shoulder. "Oh god, Kirito... did I hit you too hard? Did I break something? What's wrong? Talk to me!" I shake him frantically, desperately trying to figure out why he's acting this way. Kirito does not cry... but despite that, I've somehow managed to make him. His hand covers mine and I kneel there beside him, falling into silence, waiting on a reply of some kind... any kind.

After a minute he drops his hand and takes a few deep breaths. Once he's composed himself again, he speaks, though his voice is low and weaker than I've ever heard it. "Kohta... I never meant for you to think any of that... I didn't realize what I was causing you to do. I... I'm sorry." Silence descends on us, heavy and oppressing as I wait on him to continue, but he doesn't. So I press him, desperate to know what it is he's really been trying to teach me all these years.

"What else could it have meant then? Getting beaten every time I've been with a girl, you just laugh it off when I drunkenly kiss Jun, when I flirted shamelessly with guys at the bar. To me that clearly said that I was not to be with any girl, no matter what I want... and I just can't bring myself to honestly be with guy. Kissing them is fine and all, even making out is okay, but I'm just not comfortable with having a dick shoved up my ass... and you know as well as I do that there's no way I'd ever get to top these guys." I stop my tirade, my breathing heavy and quick; fear of the backlash pressing down on me like a thousand-ton weight.

He shakes his head and leans back against the wall with a sigh. His eyes slide closed and I think he's just going to ignore me, but in the next second, he's speaking once more. "I... I'm selfish, Kohta... really really selfish. I wanted to lead you down the path that fit best with getting what I want. I pushed you to be with guys so that you'd understand it's not so bad, that it can be just as pleasurable as being with a woman, if not more. I want something that I know I'll never get... but I at least wanted to make it more plausible." His dark eyes meet mine and I see more emotion there than I've seen from him my entire life. It steals my breath away. His hand comes up to caress my cheek ever so gently and then his lips are on mine, just the lightest brush of our mouths, then he pulls away. "I've spent my life wanting what I cannot have... wanting you." He gets up from the floor, his entire body shaking, and makes his way down the hallway toward his bedroom.

It takes me a minute to follow, but I know in my mind it's the right thing to do. I pause in his open doorway and watch him cast aside his t-shirt before I speak. "Wouldn't it have been easier to just kiss me then?"

He shakes his head. "You wouldn't have accepted it and you'd have hated me for it."

I know he's right... he's always right. I push away from the doorway and come to stand in front of him. I reach out and let my fingers trail down his chest. "But after I kissed Jun that night... what about then?"

He shudders beneath my touch and catches my hands in his own, stopping my exploration. "It was enough to see you with another man. It made pretending easier... pretending that you could be mine one day."

My mind goes over the possibilities and I come up with only one answer that satisfies us both. "I'm already yours. I've been yours for seven years... I gave up everything to make you happy, to stop the pain and heartache of your fist or your blade or your foot on me. I've waited for it to all make you happy, and yet here you are miserable and not at all happy with the result." I move closer to him, trying to press my body against his. "You want me and here I am. Your touch does things to me now that it never did before; these past few months, every simple touch lights me on fire... and you're the only person who touches me anymore." I stare deep into his eyes. "Douse the flames you've fanned or leave me the hell alone. One or the other. I won't put up with your shit anymore."

Slowly he lets go of my hands and I think that he's going to leave it at this, letting it all go. But then I'm flat on my back on his bed and he's pressing against me. "Do you really mean it? It's not just a joke?"

I shake my head. "Not just a joke..."

And then his mouth is over mine, devouring me in a way no one ever has. He tastes like sweet sin and peppermint. I moan against his lips and give in, kissing him back with equal fervor. Almost instantly I'm aroused, my body wanting this almost more than my mind. I arch against him and find him in much the same state; his arousal presses back against my thigh. I gasp and pull away from the kiss, my hands sliding between us and quickly undoing his pants. My hips buck impatiently against his hip until he moves to his knees and makes quick work of my own pants. Before I know it, we're both naked and he's kissing me again. His lips leave mine and travel down my neck and across my shoulder. He pauses there and then moves off the bed.

I watch him; curious as to what he's doing, but too afraid to ask. And then he's kneeling between my legs and his lips are pressed against my arousal. I gasp harshly and moan his name as I buck up into the hot cavern of his mouth. I never expected this of him. Out of everything I expected; it was never this. I expected pain. I expected harsh words and forced entry, but never this. Before long I'm so close, I can barely stand it. I want to cum so badly. I reach down and grasp his black hair between my fingers, tugging gently. "S-stop... oh gods... ah!" I thrust up against my own accord, unable to stop myself from seeking the pleasure I so desire. He looks like the most delicious sin with his lips wrapped around my length, and his eyes tell me undeniably that he likes it just as much. I groan loudly and press his head back down my length, knowing this will be the final time. My world explodes as I throw back my head and cry out his name, my release spilling into his waiting mouth.

He licks at me until every last drop is gone and then he's over me again, his mouth hungrily exploring my own. I kiss him back, trying to give him what he's yearned for, my hand reaching for his arousal. As I slide my fingers around him, he pulls away, shaking his head. He slides off the bed and stares at me as I sit up, giving him a questioning look. "I... I can't, Kohta. I've hurt you all this time over my selfish desires. I owe you a hell of a lot more than that before I get anything in return."

I stare at him, slightly taken aback. Pushy, demanding Kirito, the brother I've come to know and understand has vacated the premises and left behind something I can't quite grasp. I shake my head. "You don't owe me shit and I don't owe you either. I'm letting this happen and so are you. Make up your damn mind if you're going to fuck me or not."

Before I can draw my next breath, he's plastered himself to me once more, his mouth devouring mine. I reach for him and this time he lets me stroke his arousal until he's panting against my shoulder, my name falling almost incoherently from his lips as his hips thrust against my hand. Without warning, his release splashes over my hand and abdomen and he gasps my name before slumping against me. I grunt as I try to get him to not lean so heavily on me, only to realize he's passed out.

I smirk at him and laugh softly as I maneuver him so that he's lying on his bed. I toss the sheet over him and vaguely wonder if he'll even recall this in the morning or if he'll think it's all been a dream.

I gather my clothes and head for the shower to wash away our sins. Some part of me wonders if this was how it was meant to be all along. Another part screams at me that this is all wrong, but I realize that I don't really care if it is. If I can have him be like this all time, so forthcoming and kind... I'll do anything he wants. Besides, I can't deny enjoying what just transpired between us... and I don't think it was just the lack of physical pleasure before this either. Something about it being him staring up at me, the look in his eyes, and the feeling of it all... I'm drawn in, suckered. It doesn't matter anymore what's right and wrong... I'm his... and more importantly, he's mine.


End file.
